21 December 2020

midwinter is midsummer


Midwinter. We are entering the Rauhnächte, as they are called here. The twelve nights between years. The year of the moon has 354 days, ending on  midwinter. The year of the sun 356. These are the missing twelve days and for some mythologies, these are dead days, with the laws of nature out of order and the borders to the other world, the magic world of spirits, wide open. 

I am not great on any magic, the spirit world has never been inviting. But there you have it, some things are bigger than what my tiny brain can come up with, I admit as much. The knowledge while here in the Northern hemisphere, we are struggling and trying to make sense of that on these dark cold nights, my grandchild picks strawberries and runs along a sunny beach in the Southern hemisphere, provides a different, cheerful magic. I can live with that. Gladly.

Just a reminder:

We cannot successfully contain the pandemic and save lives if we do not give up some quite a lot of things in our lives at the same time. And we all have to act in this way without having convincing answers to all of our questions.

The number of cases, the number of deaths and the amount of research on this have undoubtedly shown one thing: the fewer the contacts each individual has and the less time we spend in social settings, the sooner this pandemic will come to an end. It is not a matter of chance. It is in our hands. We are not the masters of our fate alone here.


  1. While I recognize its beauty, my body physically reacts listening to music that evokes such feelings of sadness or loneliness in a way that has me wanting to turn it off more than I want to hear the loveliness. Strange...I am not sure why.

  2. The Maya had their dead days. It was considered greatly unfortunate to be born on one of them. It's so strange to me that they could be so incredibly aware of celestial rhythms and events and still create such a fantasy world of gods and goddesses.
    I suppose that in many ways, not much has changed.

  3. I'm amazed at how selfish the current crop of humans has become, especially the ones in my country, and particularly when I think of what people endured and had to give up during WWII for years! yes, you will have to miss one christmas out of a lifetime. get over it. think about what your christ would have said and wanted you to do. not you, Sabine, but the universal you.

    back when I was working I called the days between christmas and the new year the 'lost days', actually starting a few days before christmas because almost nothing could get done. we would close and not even attempt to get anything done giving our few employees the time off.

    and you sort of touched on one of my pet peeves...I live on the coastal plains of Texas and it is warm as often as it is cold in the days leading up to and including christmas day. it annoys me no end when people complain that it doesn't feel like christmas if it's not cold. really? what about all those people in the southern hemisphere? are they going around wishing for snow so that it 'feels' like christmas? I think not.

  4. I loving imagining your grandchild picking strawberries and running along the sunny beach. Here we are on the same planet as it begins its tilt back toward the northern sunlight. Soon we will be picking strawberries too and running in the sun. We will still have our masks on, but our eyes will see the light.
    Roger and I loved the music.

  5. "Dead days" -- are these the same as the 12 days of Christmas? It's an interesting concept. Many people really struggle with keeping to themselves -- I think it's particularly hard for young people, who are hypersocial and feel invincible anyway, and I get that. But I do wish more of us in all age groups took the virus more seriously.

  6. I'm sitting here in Florida wondering if I ever believed I was the master of my fate. No, I guess not. But masks will prolong my life, and the lives of those I love. I wear one happily.

  7. Just as the sun in shining on your grandchild today, you have reminded me that the sun is shining here above our heavy cloud cover and steady rain on winter solstice during what could be the worst months of the pandemic. Thank you for the midwinter music.

  8. Very heavy moody music, much like an oppressive cold winter night. I, too, can be quite content foregoing holiday visits with family for a greater goal. There's much to be said for virtual visits in times like this.